


I’ve Got a Dream

by BookwormBecca99



Category: The 100
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormBecca99/pseuds/BookwormBecca99
Summary: Clarke’s only ever seen the walls of her unit on this abandoned space station, but she wants nothing more than to go to the ground and figure out what these strange lights that only appear on her birthday mean. She never expects a notorious thief to break in to the station, and she definitely never expects to go on a wild adventure to the ground with him, but hey, it should be fun.OrA Tangled Bellarke au
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	I’ve Got a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written fic in literal years and my old stuff is actually terrible, so I’m honestly surprised I got the random motivation to do this when I was meant to be writing a paper (ha). I’m hoping I’ll actually want to finish this instead of leaving it a perpetual wip like everything else I’ve written, but that definitely depends on how I’m feeling after this part is posted. Ignore any scientific or engineering things that don’t make sense, I tried my hardest to put the space twist in naturally (but I probably failed). Also, I blatantly used lines from Tangled in this, so here’s my disclaimer that I do not own the characters or some of the lines written, and hopefully I do these two and my favorite movie justice. now after all that rambling, here’s part one of ??
> 
> also title is taken from the masterpiece “I’ve Got a Dream” from tangled because of course
> 
> Unedited, so excuse any mistakes pls thanks

This is the story of how I died.

Don’t worry, it’s actually a fun story, and the truth is, it isn’t even mine. This is the story of a girl named Clarke. And it started in the sky.

\---------------

Clarke had never known anything beyond these walls. For eighteen years, her life was a repetition of the same mindless activities over and over again. She couldn’t count how many times she’s read A Beginner’s Guide to Gardening. Actually, yes, she could, because she’s read it cover to cover every day for six years and nine days and doing the math means she’s read it 2,199 times. Ironically, she doesn’t have a garden, but boy when she gets one (if she gets one) she’s gonna garden the heck out of that garden.

See, her mom doesn’t think it’s safe for her to go outside. Considering she lives on a space station, going outside would mean certain suffocating death, so her mom is right about that. Her mom doesn’t want her visiting Earth. She says there’s people down there that would hurt her because of her gift, something she calls nightblood. It supposedly protects her from the harsh radiation of the sun and allows her to heal herself and other people, as long as she sings a song she calls the Traveler’s Blessing and touches the area needing healing.

Clarke knows it’s a special gift, and that it could be considered magic- if her book on Earth’s history is anything to go by- which must be why her mom is so scared of her going down there. They used to burn people at the stake for having magic, so she can only imagine they’d still be scared of it now. She knows there are ways to get down to the ground, but she’s never used them. Her mom leaves in a transport ship every day to go to a place she calls Arkadia to get food and other necessary supplies. She has never offered to take Clarke with her, and Clarke’s never asked. But she’s hoping today will be the day that changes.

\--------------

Today’s like any other day. Clarke woke up, did the chores, drew on a bit of open wall space, and is now playing with her robotic dog she named Picasso. Picasso is something her mom doesn’t know about. Clarke found her in pieces on one of the days she managed to find a way into an area of the station her mom never let her see, and she happened to retain enough from that one mechanical engineering book her mom brought (and then took back a day later because it was “too dangerous”) to rebuild her. She thinks the station was once inhabited by a large group of people, but it was abandoned for some unknown reason. There were lots of old toys and clothes scattered around, as well as debris, which makes her think there was an evacuation of some sort. But these are just the thoughts she tells Picasso when she’s too bored to do anything else.

“HAH”

Clarke busts open the doors to her wardrobe. Nothing... wait. There’s a rustle from the back of the wardrobe. Clarke goes to close the door then says, “I guess Picasso’s not hiding in here… Gotcha!” She pushes back one of her mother’s long cloaks and finds Picasso looking up at her, wagging her tail vigorously.

“That makes… twenty-two for me, how about twenty-three out of forty-five?” Picasso whines and tilts her head.

“Okay fine, what do you wanna do then?”

Picasso barks and bounds out of the door to jump up onto her bench which is currently below the two-inch-thick glass that is the only thing separating her from the vacuum of space. She taps on the glass with her nose, and looks back at Clarke, wagging her tail again. Clarke sighs.

“Cas, you know we can’t go out there.” Picasso looks down and whines. “I know, I know. But I’m gonna ask mom about tomorrow. It’s my eighteenth birthday, I’m old enough to go down there. I have to be old enough to go down there.”  
Clarke joins Picasso at the window, absently stroking the smooth metal on her head.

Every year on her birthday, these weird lights show up from the surface of the Earth. She first saw them when she was three, and every year since then she’s always watched them from this exact window. She even has a drawing of them hidden behind her bedroom door (where her mom never looks) and she always looks at it when she’s feeling particularly lonely or sad. Somehow, for some reason she can’t explain, they make her feel whole. Complete. Like they’re meant for her. She’s never had the courage to ask her mom if they could at least use one of the passenger ships to watch them from a different angle than this window, but today she decided she’s going to just rip off the bandaid. She’s gonna ask if she can finally visit Earth and watch them from the surface.

Just as she’s about to get up to close the door and study her drawing of the lights yet again, she hears the airlock alarm go off. That means her mom is back from her morning trip to the ground. Clarke jumps up and frantically finds the blanket she usually uses to hide Picasso on her bed. She picks her up and places her down on the bed, covering Picasso, who whines a bit.

“Shh.. I know Cas, but we can’t let her see you. It’s time!” She gives the dog a pet on the head through the blanket, then rushes to meet her mother at the door to the unit.

“Clarke! Open the door! I have my arms full.”

Clarke rushes to the door, pulling it open to reveal her mother, who looks a bit frazzled and indeed has her arms full. She pushes past Clarke and dumps the bags on the kitchen counter, then collapses in one of the armchairs.

“So, mom, I know you just got back, but as you know, tomorrow is a very big day,” Clarke begins, “And I was wondering-”

“Darling, I’m feeling a little bit run down, would you sing for me? Then we’ll talk.” Her mother interrupts. Clarke starts, a little surprised.

“Oh, of course mom!” She quickly gathers the stool her mom usually sits at while she sings, and impatiently waits while her mom makes her way over to it. She places her hand on her mother’s forehead, and begins to sing quickly:

“In peace, may you leave the shore, in love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, to our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”

Not used to this fast pace, her mom gasps as the wrinkles and under eye bags rapidly disappear from her face, the gray hair turns back into bright blonde, and she sits a little taller in her chair.

“Clarke! What was that for?”

“Well, as I was saying, tomorrow’s a really big day…” Clarke looks at her mother expectantly.

“What, is it laundry day?”

“No, mom, it’s my birthday!” Clarke claps, smiling.

“No, no, I distinctly remember. Your birthday was last year.” Her mom tsks and begins taking things out of one of the bags she brought. Clarke laughs awkwardly,

“That’s the funny thing about birthdays, they’re kind of an annual thing. Mom, I’m gonna be eighteen, and I wanted to ask, what I really want for this birthday…” Clarke trails off, looking out the window.

“What, Clarke, spit it out.” Her mom snaps. Clarke flinches. She takes a deep breath, then blurts,

“Oh, I wanna see the flashing lights.”

“What?”

“Oh, well, I was hoping you would take me to see the flashing lights… from the ground.” Her mom looks contemplative.

“You mean the stars.”

Clarke shakes her head, pointing out the kitchen window to the Earth.

“That’s the thing, these aren’t stars. They come from the ground, and they only appear on my birthday. Only on my birthday. I just can’t help but feel like they’re meant for me. And I want to see them, not just from my window, hundreds of miles away. In person, on the ground. I just have to know what they are.”

Her mom slowly looks out the window as well. Her eyebrows furrow, and she suddenly turns back to Clarke.

“Clarke, you know why we stay up here.”

“I know, but”

“That’s right, to keep you safe. There’s bad people down there, Clarke. Bad people that will do bad things to you if they ever found out about your gift. I’ve only ever wanted to make sure that never happens.” She looks back out the window, murmuring something under her breath that Clarke can’t hear. Then she sighs, and comes up to Clarke. Her mom lifts up her chin so she can look her in the eyes and says firmly, “Never ask to leave this station again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Clarke replies quietly. Her mom places a quick kiss on her forehead, before letting her go to grab her coat.

“I’ll be back in a bit, darling.” She heads for the door. Clarke sighs.

“I’ll be here.”

The door closes, her mother’s footsteps receding down the hall until Clarke can’t hear them anymore.

——————-

Blake never thought he’d get this far. Sure, he’d stolen jewels and gold before, but the actual crown of the lost princess? This has got to be his crowning achievement- no pun intended. Murphy and Mbege (also known as the Johns) rest their arms on their knees, breathing heavily. Blake walks by, clapping them on the back, then freezes.

“No no no, this can’t be happening.” They look at each other, then Murphy says,

“What, Blake? Is someone coming?” Blake sighs and points at the multiple WANTED posters plastered all over the tree he just noticed.

“They just can’t get my nose right!” Every single poster had a different iteration of a nose drawn, and none of them flattering. He tears the most hideous one off and stuffs it into the satchel.

“And why do you care if your nose looks wrong on your wanted poster? Isn’t it better if they don’t draw you correctly?” Murphy scoffs, looking at his and Mbege’s posters on the tree next to Blake’s. Blake rolls his eyes.

“That’s easy for you to say, you guys look great. Anyway, we should probably keep moving. We need to get to that shuttle as soon as possible. Give me a boost.” He points up to the top of the ledge that leads to the launch pad. Mbege shakes his head while Murphy says,

“Give us the satchel first.” Blake’s jaw drops.

“I just can’t believe it. After all we’ve been through, you don’t trust me?”

“Nope. Not one bit.” Blake glares.

“Fine. Here.” He tosses the satchel at Mbege, who deftly catches it. “Now will you help me up?” Murphy steps up to ledge and gets down on one knee.

“John, I’m touched, but I don’t think about you that way.” Blake says, putting a hand on his heart and earning a glare from Murphy.

“Shut the hell up, Blake.” He motions for Blake to use his knee as a stepping point, which he does. Blake successfully makes it up to the top, where he stands and looks at the small transport shuttle sitting right there for the taking. “What are you waiting for? Help us up.” Blake turns around, smiling guiltily and shrugging.

“Sorry boys, my hands are full.” He holds up the satchel, then makes a run for the open door of the shuttle. Murphy yells his name then curses, and he hears crashing as both Johns try to clamber up the ledge, but he knows they’ll just have to take the long way around and by then he’ll be long gone.

Blake pulls the lever for the door, watching it close before making his way to the cockpit. He sits down and starts the engine, looking at the controls. He’s flown before, but never something of this caliber. Everything he used to fly was run down and on the verge of breaking. This shuttle is obviously owned by one of the wealthy noble families, probably the Griffins, who, now that he thinks about it, really need to amp up their security seeing as this is the second piece of their property he’s stolen today.

Taking the wheel in his hands, Blake slowly lifts it and feels the wheels of the ship leave the ground. He rises about twenty feet before pushing the button that turns on the jets and shooting into the sky, watching the small specks of Murphy and Mbege running onto the pad after him.

“See ya later, Johns. Thanks for the help.”

He mutters, turning back to the controls. He sets a course for the remnants of the old Ark station, the one that was used for a hundred years before the people finally realized it was safe to come back to the ground. He bets it still has some electricity or at least a backup generator, seeing as it was abandoned so quickly. He’s heard stories of people flying by it on their way to the new research station, Polis, and seeing lights on in one of the windows, but he thinks they’re no more than some sort of reflection of the sun or something like that.

Checking the course again, Blake sighs and turns on the autopilot. The satchel’s strap is still wrapped around his shoulder, and he opens it to take a look at the beautiful tiara. He feels a sense of sadness that the girl it was meant for never got to wear it, but oh well, it’s going to be traded in for money for O as soon as he can make it to the black market in TonDC. He can’t wait to see the look on her face when he brings home that money for her training. He’s thinking of what else he could buy with the leftover money when he hears beeping, which must mean he’s close to his destination.

He looks out the front of the shuttle and sees the outline of the abandoned Ark. A docking airlock is marked with a huge symbol indicating its for passenger crafts, so Blake makes his way toward that, hoping the generator of the place will sense movement and kick on on its own so he doesn’t have to put on the suit and do it manually. He gets as close as he can, and waits a few minutes. Just as he’s about to give up and start preparing for a spacewalk, the lights on the outside of the station turn on and the airlock door opens. Blake cheers and sits back down in the chair, slowly piloting the shuttle into the airlock and setting it down smoothly. He hears the doors close behind him and the pressurization process begins.

———————-

Clarke admits she sulked a bit after her mom left. She doesn’t know why she ever expected her plan to work, her mom has been so scared of the ground for so long that she’ll probably never let Clarke leave.

“There has to be something I can do to convince her!” She tells Picasso, who yips in agreement. “I just don’t know what it is.” Clarke sits down on her bed and tries to think.

“I could show her the training I’ve been doing, from those old books I found!” Picasso tilts her head. “Oh, but she doesn’t know about those books, so that wouldn’t help. Umm, I could-“

Her words are cut off by the airlock alarm blaring again. She checks the clock. It’s only been twenty minutes since her mom left, there’s no way she’s back already. Clarke runs into the kitchen and to the door to the unit. The keypad beside it has a little screen with connection to the cameras in the airlock. She sees the door start to open and watches as an unfamiliar shuttle makes its way inside. She can just make out the shape of a person in the cockpit and her stomach turns. This has to be someone here to hurt her, like her mother always said. What happened to her mother? Did someone find her? Hurt her?

Clarke turns around to look for something to use as a weapon. A book? No, that’s not heavy enough. A butter knife? No, it’s barely sharp enough to cut cheese. Aha! She sees the cast iron frying pan sitting by the sink.

“That’s perfect!” She says, then remembers she’s trying to be quiet. She grabs the pan, then turns off all the lights in the unit. If this person decides to come out of their ship, this is the only place they can go from that airlock, since everything else is blocked off by wreckage. Clarke decides to hide behind the door to her room, where she can still barely see the screen on the keypad.

The person gets out of their ship after the pressurization light turns on and she can see them make their way toward the door that leads into the hallway. Picasso whines, but Clarke shushes her, nudging her behind the door with her foot. The person is no longer visible in the airlock camera, so she knows they must be close to entering the unit. She hears soft footsteps coming down the hall, then the handle of the front door turning. The door opens to reveal a dark human shape.

The person walks into the unit and seems to be looking at something. While they’re turned around looking the other way, Clarke sneaks out from behind her door until she’s standing right behind them. They drop the thing they were holding, now carrying something that glints off of the sun shining through the window. Clarke raises the frying pan, and right as they say,

“Alone at last,”

she swings, hitting them square on the back of the head. The person crumples to the ground, and Clarke squeaks. She rushes to turn on one of the lights, then runs back to the person on the floor. They landed face down, so Clarke can’t make out any features, but she thinks it’s a man.  
Picasso pokes her head out of Clarke’s room, and Clarke motions her forward.

“What do you think, Cas? Is it a boy?”

Picasso tilts her head and then goes to sniff the persons ear. Clarke nudges her out of the way, using the handle of the frying pan to move some of his dark curly hair out of his face. She gasps. She doesn’t have much to compare to- besides the occasional picture in the history book- but she thinks this person may be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. His face looks peaceful, with a constellation of freckles covering his cheek. Surely this beautiful man couldn’t be here to hurt her?

She’s about to move another piece of his hair back when his eye shoots open and he sits up, looking around wildly. Clarke reacts on instinct, swinging the pan again, causing him to collapse back down onto the floor, unconscious again. Picasso looks up at her as if she’s asking “Well what are you gonna do now?” Clarke stares at the man. “Cas, I think I have an idea.”


End file.
